Crunching numbers

I walked into the office this morning, and Christmas had thrown up in the foyer. A tree, obviously fake and desperate for attention, stood in the middle, surrounded by about a dozen poinsettias. These weren't tiny little desktop plants either, they were kind that retail at my other workplace for about $17. I craned my neck around the corner and saw at least a dozen more in the marketing department. I would have traipsed over to do a headcount myself, but it is generally an unfamiliar area, where editorial staff dare not tread, lest ethical ad/edit standards are compromised. But, I'd already seen all there was to see, so I did a little math in my head.

Let's say the magazine bought these seasonal abominations at a bargain price of $12 a pop. There were at least, at least, 25 plants. We'll say about $300 total was spent on covering every square inch of extra floor space with poinsettias.

Separately, but interestingly, there are probably 10 editorial interns on staff. Let's say, in the Christmas spirit, whoever is in charge of buying superfluous flora, instead decided to use the $300 to give the unpaid interns a Christmas bonus. That's $30 per person!!! Ergo, I bring you a top 10.

Top 10 Ways an Intern Can Stretch 30 Smackers

10. 15 medium coffees at Dunkin Donuts, which will sustain me during my 3-hour round-trip commutes, and 7-day work week schedule. On the train, the conductors frequently neglect to announce station stops in the winter months, when it's pitch black outside, and you really have no idea where you are. So I have to stay awake, or else I might miss my stop. Wakefulness is essential. I cannot stay conscious without coffee. You get the drift.
9. Round-trip transportation costs for two days of commuting to Boston. Does not include parking fees.
8. New pair of shoes, and warm socks. Frostbite feels too real a risk in my paper-thin ballet flats, which I have been wearing constantly, due to lack of funds for more appropriate footwear.
7. Replace threadbare dress pants and/or office shirts with more professional looking (read: free of holes, stains) attire.
6. Pay 12 percent of my December Sallie Mae bill. (Merry Christmas, Sallie!!)
5. Get haircut at Costcutters, because it's been months and I look vaguely homeless.
4. Take half a Saturday off work to sleep in.
3. Buy a Christmas present for one, two, or three family members, depending on how generous gift limits are this year.
2. Purchase 7-15 drinks at Starbucks, stage sit-in, and demand the triumphant (and ever-less-likely) return of Hottie McLatte.
1. Procure two five-liter boxes of wine, because I have been doing work for free since May, and sometimes, the only way I can summon the dignity to go on, is if I'm a teensy bit drunk when I leave the house at 7 a.m.

What would you do with 30 greenbacks?

Let your heart be light

It's Christmas morning and the family is gathered in the living room. I am Santa, proudly wearing the hat and passing out everyone's presents. Part of my father's gift from me was a couple of six packs of specialty winter-brew beers.

Because we like to keep it classy up in here.

As I bring the large bag over to him, the clinking of the glass bottles is clearly audible.

Dad: Oh, jeez. Clink, clink! Can't imagine what's in there.
Catherine: Well, Dad... you only have a couple of real interests, and we pretty much have to cater to those.
(beat)
Dad: Oh...the emptiness of life...

These types of off-hand comments define our family holiday experiences. We all burst out laughing, even though at the time the comment seemed sincere. We just don't ask. He mentioned later in the morning that I would be repeating the same phrase all in good time. Further proving our affection and tendencies for all things sinister, a couple of Thanksgivings ago, someone mentioned that Raffi died, a musical staple of the kid's childhood and the adults' parenthood. Dinner came to a complete halt, people began screaming belligerently, voices cracking with emotion. Raffi couldn't die! We had to pause the meal to fact-check on Google. (You'll be glad to know that Raffi is still with us.)

This most recent Thanksgiving, we were playing Apples to Apples. The adjective was "awkward" and Cassidy submitted "The Challenger Explosion" as an answer. It was so out of place with all of the other answers, and so strangely hilarious, since it was sort of the opposite of awkward and really just tragic, but nevertheless, it was the winning submission. The next game we played was in two teams. What did we name those teams? The Challenger and Columbia. Click the links if you don't remember, and either rejoice or be horrified by my family's sick sense of humor and insensitivity. These are the holidays at my house.

I hope you all have a lovely holiday, and enjoy the presence (and presents) of whomever you spend it with. I've just come back from my trip to Louisiana, so please wait with bated with breath for those entries. I'll try to be a better blogger, as I've got three weeks on my hands with absolutely nothing to do.